


Where the Wind Led

by meru



Category: Original Work
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Sharing Body Heat, Sickfic, Snow and Ice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-21 10:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17640983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meru/pseuds/meru
Summary: A man lost in the woods finds warmth and safety.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kisuru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisuru/gifts).



> Hi, hello. Somehow this got a bit out of hand. I probably could have gone on forever but eventually I just had to end it. Anyway, hope you like it! 
> 
> Happy Chocolate Day~!

The wind picked up as Petre made his way deeper into the forest. The frozen top layer of snow gives way under his weight, swallowing up his boots completely. The path had long since been lost by the swirling mass of powder and the loss of daylight. The farther he trudged on heavier the snowfall seemed to get until there was no telling where he came from or where he might be going.

Worse than the cold and the wind was the relative silence. Since entering the forest there hadn’t been any evidence of life. There was no bird’s song or distant wolves howling. The only sound other than his own footfalls was the rustling of the bare branches in the wind. After pushing through a tangle of twigs and frozen vines, Petre finally found some evidence that he wasn’t the first person to have ever come this way. A cleared path. Someone must have maintained this. Which means it must lead somewhere.

The wind picked up again as he tried to decide which way to go. Petre drew his coat closer around himself and coughed into the hood. He’d better decide quickly. The longer he stayed out in the wind and snow the worse off he was likely to be.

He’d entered the path from the side. It was possible that he was completely turned around and one way would lead back to town but just as likely that neither way would take him somewhere that he’d been before. Gazing in either direction gave no indication that was even anything at the end.

“Left then,” Petre said to himself because the silence was too much to bare. His voice was horse and sounded congested. Which only made him want to hasten his pace.

No sooner had he taken a few steps than there came a strong wind blowing directly in his face. Petre braced against it but it didn’t seem to be let up until he turned away.

“The wind wants me to go right,” he half said, half coughed. He might as well not fight the wind. Either direction was just as likely to be correct.

With the wind at his back the trip down the path went quickly. Soon the path opened up and a small cottage was visible above the expanse of snow. The windows were dark, but that didn’t stop him from breaking into a run. Frantically he began knocking. There came no answer or any sound from the inside.

This was where the wind lead and his only chance of surviving the night.

Petre tried the handle; the door swung open with such force that he stumbled forward onto the floor. Before he had a chance to process what happened a gust blew from the opposite wall and caused the door to swing shut.

It wasn’t much warmer inside the single room cottage. At least it was out of the elements, he might have thought if it wasn’t for the breeze coming from the fireplace.

 

Fireplace!

Petre scrambled to the fireplace. It took him a few tries at striking the match to get it lit. Slowly, painfully feeling returned to his hands and he was able to pull off his pants along with his coat, boots, socks and set them by the fire to dry.

Barging into a stranger’s house and lighting their fireplace was one thing but he had to draw the line at crawling into a stranger’s bed.  Wrapping up in one of the blankets on the floor wouldn’t be overstepping though.

 

* * *

 

The next day he woke up far too comfortable. Once he opened his eyes it was obvious why: he had, somehow, ended up in the bed.

And he wasn’t alone. There was a man sitting on the edge of the bed. He was the most beautiful person Petre had ever seen. Although, maybe he wasn’t thinking straight, the man’s combination of dark skin, white hair and bright blue eyes were certainly striking. For what seemed like an eternity the man simply watched him with a neutral expression.

Finally, Petre decided to break the silent staring. “Sorry, I didn’t—” He began to say, attempting to sit up, but a coughing fit cut him off. The man reached out to gently lay him back down. His hands felt cold, even through Petre’s shirt. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re no intruder. I brought you here.” Petre must have made a confused face, because the man added “This is my forest and my storm.”

Petre sniffled, “Oh.” Too tired and sick to process what the man was telling him. All that mattered was that he didn’t mind Petre staying here, in fact he must have been the one to tuck him into bed. That was nice. He was lucky to have found this place and this person.

 

Petre wasn’t sure what time it was when he woke up again. The light coming in the window is a dim golden glow and something about it made him think it wasn’t the same day.  He was aware of the man moving around in the house but couldn’t sure where exactly where.

“Good, you’re awake,” Petre hears somewhere to his left. Then light footsteps coming closer. “Drink this.”

“What…?” Was all he could manage to croak out.

“It’s been at least a day since you’ve eaten. I know enough about humans to know that isn’t ideal.”

For the second time, “oh” was the only response Petre could muster, but this time he wasn’t sure if he’d managed to make the sound before he was being lifted into a sitting position and a bowl was pressed to his lips.

He tried to keep up with the pace he was being forced to swallow the contents of the bowl, but that was made difficult by the burning in his throat and the growing ache in his lungs. Eventually he had to push away to have a coughing fit, spilling the soup down his front and into the blankets.

The man stayed where he sat on the edge of the bed watching wide eyed until Petre was able to calmly take in a breath. When he looked up, the man visibly relaxed.

“Perhaps that was too much,” he said. It was the first time Petre had heard even a hint of uncertainly in his voice.

“Who are you?”

“I brought you here to save you from freezing.”

“Thanks for that but who are you?”

“I am a spirit of winter.”

“What is your name?”

“You can call me Vant.”

“Vant, I’m Petre. Was that so hard?”

“I don’t meet many people.”

“I can tell,” Petre started to laugh but it quickly turned back to coughing.  

That time, in his uncertainty, Vant reached out for him. To do what, Petre didn’t know because he jerked away to fall against the pillows.

Undeterred, Vant leaned further forward to place his hand on Petre’s forehead.

“Your hand is cold.”  

“I’m always this cold,” Vant replied, bringing his other hand to Petre’s cheek.

“It’s nice,” he heard himself say; it had to be the delirium talking.

Vant’s perfect face broke into a smile as he shifted to lay down next to Petre.

“You’re so warm.”

“It’s the fever.”

“I’m going to keep you.”

Petre didn’t know what to say. The idea that there was even something to say to that was a foreign concept.


	2. Chapter 2

“What are you doing up?”

“It’s not ideal to go so long without eating, like you said.”

That was true. Still he studied Petre closely, frowning. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten up in the week since Vant had brought him to the cottage, but it seemed humans needed a lot of rest. “Are you sure that’s alright?”

Petre nodded and sat at the table and Vant slowly moved to sit across from him.

“Will you tell me more about yourself?”

“What do you want to know?”

“How long have you been here?”

“I’ve existed as long as Winter has been in this region.”

“In this house?”

“The house is new.”

“Okay, you’re some kind of…” Petre made a circling motion with his hand as he often did when thinking of the words to say. “Spirit of winter. Why look like that?” It seemed he understood more than Vant had expected.

“I always could appear as a man, I just seldom cared to.”

“What changed?”

“I… found a human lost in my forest. I needed you to be able to understand me if I wanted to keep you.”

There was silence other than the clink of utensils as Petre let them fall from his hands.

“You’ve said that before…”

Vant didn’t see a reason to reply to that simple statement of fact.

“You want me to be your pet.”

Oh, there’s where the confusion laid. “No, you’ll be more like my bride.”

The silence that hung over the table felt heavy as Petre’s face turned red, “THAT’S why you saved me?”

“Yes.” But apparently that was the wrong response because Petre slammed his hands on the table and stood up, repeating himself.

Vant did not understand the sudden turn to anger but he felt a need to defend his thinking. “Is that so wrong? To desire companionship after a millennia alone in these cold, dark woods?”

“You can’t just—” This time Petre cut himself off by shaking his head, a gesture Vant hadn’t seen him exhibit. “Keep a person!”

“Why not? What do you have to go back to?” Vant could feel his voice rising to match Petre’s level. “In all the time I’ve sheltered and cared for you, you’ve never once made mention of anyone or anything out there to get back to.”

“I…” Petre stumbled over his words. Perhaps Vant was right after all.

“What kind of person braves the winter wilds at night?”

“What?”

“Where were you going so urgently that it couldn’t wait for the morning?” He tried again softening his voice as best he could manage.

“They didn’t have work for me in the town. I thought it would be best to move on quickly.”

“If you stay here, with me, you won’t need to work. I have provided everything you need, have I not?”

Petre drew in a deep breath and exhaled loudly. He muttered something before drawing up and marching to the door.

Vant simply watched him gather up his things and leave the cottage. As Petre forcefully shut the door, Vant gave up physical form. Disappearing into the wind once again.

* * *

 

Petre stood outside the cottage as if in disbelief that leaving would be that easy. That Vant hadn’t said anything or tried to force him to stay. Still he’d made his decision and headed out into the woods.

It wasn’t dark like last time. At least he had the good sense to run off before sundown.

Still, Vant had a point. He didn’t have anything to return to out there. But that didn’t mean he was willing to belong to some spirit in the frozen forest. Or, as Vant had implied his true intentions were, marry someone he’d only just met. Let alone a someone who barely had a grasp on human interaction.

The path that had led him to the cottage wasn’t a simple straight line after all. It twisted and turned and branched off. Petre took each turn without even a thought; he only wanted to put as much distance between the spirit and himself. An effort that was probably in vain because no matter which way he turned the wind answered with a gust in the other direction.

Eventually, he came to a dead end. A great waterfall held motionless in ice. The wind circled around where he stood.

“As long as I’m in this forest, you’ll always be with me, huh?”

As an answer a light gust blew past his hair.

 “and you're not going to let me leave, are you?” Of course not. Can't was the only reason he was able to find his way to the cottage so he'd be the only one who could navigate the way out of the forest. 

Somehow talking to someone he couldn’t see made it easier to speak everything on his mind. “Humans don’t like to feel like a kept thing. I don’t like feeling like I don’t have a choice.”

The wind stilled. Was he listening?

Petre took several deep breaths, weighing his options, “if I stay,” The wind picked up again. “I said IF.” He waited for the wind to calm. He sighed before trying again. “If I stay, you’re going to have to lighten up. You can’t keep me locked up inside all the time.”

The wind blew in his face and he raised his voice, “Don’t interrupt me.” He waited a moment.  

“I need you to listen. You had a point. I don’t have anyone… or anywhere to go.”

The wind whirled around and Vant appeared in his physical form. “So you’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay.”

Vant smiled and held his hand out, but Petre didn’t move to take it.

“I’m only staying to see if there is something here.”

“Of course. Now, come, let’s go home.”

Petre almost reached out for his hand but pulled away at tge last moment. "And if I want to leave, you'll have to show me the way out."

Vant's eyes narrowed but he quickly schooled his expression back to how it was before. "Alright. I agree to that," he said. "Now come, before you get sick again." 

Petre took his hand and allowed Vant to whisk him away.


End file.
